


Of Rage And Grief

by thecattydddy



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Green Arrow - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Episode: s03e09 The Climb, Fake Character Death, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 11:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8623402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecattydddy/pseuds/thecattydddy
Summary: Oliver isn't about to abandon Roy, not even in the face of death.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Speedy is my son and I need about 3420582734014 more episodes centered around him in every show.

The glass was cool against his back.

It was possibly the only thing to keep his head just above the sea of thoughts he was swimming in. An arrow was held loosely in one hand, his fingers running over the head as if touching something fragile; Something precious. His eyes were settled on the work of his hands, but his stare was a thousand miles away.

_“_ _Take care of Thea.”_

As if there’d been any doubt that that’s exactly what he would do. She was the love of his life, A shining hope in the midst of his constant misery. He didn’t need Oliver to remind him to protect her. To care for her. To make her happy. Those were things that he would have done anyways.

_Oliver had moved closer with a slowness that he didn’t know originated from having a heavy heart or from trying to keep from scaring him away. Either way, he ended up in the other man’s arm. He was held a moment,_ _Oliver’s hold strong, but not constricting. All the moments that’d led up to this one, all the building and encouraging and guidance he’d received coming to this very moment--_

“Roy?”

The memory was shattered by the same voice who’d cut short his goodbyes last time. His expression twisted into a form of resentment, because anger was easier to grasp and hold onto than anything else. Because showing sadness or _hurt_ was out of the question. Drawing in a strained breath, he glanced over his shoulder and shot her what he hoped was a neutral look.

“Felicity… I thought you were supposed to be out.”

“What are you doing?” The blonde asked, her heels clicking against the floor as she moved across the basement towards him.

“Nothing.” A transparent response, but the only one he could give. She knelt down to be level with him and his gaze turned elsewhere. From the pointed stare she gave him, Felicity didn’t believe his answer any more than he did. “Seriously, I just--”

“Roy.” A clean cut through further excuses and he turned slightly surprised eyes back to her. Felicity reached forward and placed a hand against either of his cheeks. It was a gesture he would be wary of from anyone else, but their little team was given leniency he never thought he would grant anyone.

The annoyance that etched itself permanently into his features cracked, leaving hints to his underlying sadness and an encompassing sense of loss. Any chance for words came out broken and wetness played at the corners of his vision. Felicity pulled him into her shoulder and he wore ragged breaths into it.

“Ssh… He’s fine. It’s only been a few days,” she assured him, her fingers running through his hair like he was just some kid in need of comfort. Normally, he would resent an action like that, especially from anyone except Oliver, but he needed it now and he trusted her at least to give it to him.

“What if this is it? What if Oliver’s never coming back?” he choked out. “I barely got to say goodbye… I didn’t tell him how much he--”

“Stop it. We can’t think like that,” Felicity scolded, her voice touching closer to annoyance than comfort for a second and Roy gave a bitter snort. She was just as stubborn as them all, if in her own way. “You can tell him when he gets home.”

He wasn’t sure he trusted that. To most others that may ask, he would have stood firmly by the man’s ability to overcome anything but, in this moment, the pain and grief of the possible loss wore him down enough to bare his worries out in a way that so few were allowed to be privy to. He dampened her shirt with a few traitorous tears, letting her hold him in a way he wasn’t really able to remember happening to him, before he’d fallen into this crazy little word.

* * *

“I need some air.” Felicity was gone before any of them could bring themselves to stop her, her heels clicking up the stairs and as far away from them – from Oliver – that one could get. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

His eyes darted over to his mentor, Oliver’s frame outwardly unchanged by her outburst. Roy kept his expression neutral, leaning into a safety net of annoyance to keep anything unsavory away, but his hands shook slightly and John’s keen perception caught the movement before he even realized he’d made them.

“Excuse me a minute.” For a second, surprise flashed in Oliver’s eyes and he turned to John, immediately. Maybe wondering if the former soldier was turning on his decision as well. John gave him a pointed look, chasing those ridiculous thoughts away without a word, and then turning his gaze to Roy, who’d taken to examining a wall like it’d insulted his mother. “I’m gonna call Lyla. Tell her I’m alright.”

“Of course,” Oliver replied, but he had already dismissed John from his thoughts as he processed the silent conversation that they’d had. Several beats of silence passed between the two remaining before the younger started making moves for a retreat.

“Alright, well, this has been fun. You probably want to get outside and talk to Felicity, so--”

“Roy.”

The sound of his name, the softness laced in the unspoken command for him to stop, it was so _Oliver_ and it brought a painful stab that he hadn’t thought to let himself really process in the few weeks the other had been missing. There’d been so much that’d happened, he hadn’t had the time, but now he did and it was suffocating enough to even bring a waver to his voice. “Yeah?”

His gaze was gentle and understanding when their eyes met. Neither dared to move, dared to so much as breath, for several counts as they took one another in. And then, just as suddenly, Roy was tucked securely in Oliver’s arm, being held in that same strong, nonrestrictive way that he had right before the other had left weeks ago.

“We thought you were dead. I thought you’d--” Roy cut himself short this time, biting back the accusation he would lay before his mentor. It’s not as if Oliver would have asked to die. The plan, however stupid, had been to _come home_... To _come back_. And, even if it’d taken some time, that was exactly what he’d done. The boy’s concerns had been unfound and it’d been foolish of him to think otherwise.

Oliver didn’t need to hear him say it, though. He already knew… knew Roy too well for that sentence to have ended any other way. The hug tightened, Oliver’s hand coming up to rest against the back of Roy’s neck and to hold him in place. His thumb ran small circles into the skin there, tethering him. “I won’t leave you.”

“I know,” Roy quickly answered, his words thick with emotions he wasn’t sure he was ready to face. Rage made at his own inability to curb that shook his frame, only Oliver’s assuring frame there to keep him from going off the edge. “It’s stupid. I didn’t think you’d--”

“Yes you did,” Oliver cut him off. A small smirk took to his lips and Roy could feel the other’s muscles move to form it. “And it’s alright. I’m not gonna be mad about that, I just want you to know that I won’t.”

“’K.” Roy, ever the rebellious student, purposefully made his reply aloof and uncaring. The way he held onto the other, as if his life depended on it, counteracted this masquerade, though. Oliver gave a soft snort and let Roy keep him there a few moments longer before pulling back enough to look in the boy’s face.

“I have to go talk to Felicity, now,” Oliver explained. The younger vigilante was already pulling himself back into his usual moody self before the words were completely out of the man’s mouth. The slightly pissed mask was pushed back into place and all these unwanted and unneeded emotions tucked away back on the shelves where they belonged.

“Right, ‘course. Go. I don’t need-”

“Hey.” Oliver’s hand rested on Roy’s shoulder, eyes boring into his with a certain intensity that chased away argument. He just stared back, caught up in the heaviness it left in the air. “It’s alright to need this.”

“I know, it’s just...” He had no idea how to word this. How to paint what he wanted to say in a way that didn’t come off as too much, but still conveyed _how much_ the Arrow – How much _Oliver –_ really meant to him. “I… Thank you. For… For everything. I didn’t get a chance to before and I...”

A fondness took to Oliver and he brought his hand to lay over Roy’s cheek. There was so much to say to the kid, but no where near enough words, so he chose to leave it at what he felt he needed to hear. “You’ve made me proud tonight.”

And then the Arrow was gone, off to talk to Felicity and leaving Roy standing there with the shadows of the moment haunting him like a kind ghost. John returned shortly after, tucking his phone away and giving Roy a knowing smirk.

“You talk to Oliver, then?” The question, rhetorical as it was, brought a snubbed nose in John’s direction and Roy was off to do something or other to blow off some steam. His lack of proper answer was unimportant, because John had gotten all he’d needed from that response alone.

And Roy? He got a little bit of warmth settling in where loss and ache had reigned only a few hours ago.


End file.
